Let Me Be Your Friend
by Neffie
Summary: Gasp! Chapter 6! Oh its only taken me... two years.
1. A Problem...

Author's Note: Yes, I know I need to get busy with the next chapter of "Secrets Best Left Untold" but this little plot bunny has been bouncing in my head for weeks without stopping, no matter how much I try to stab it with a Q-tip.  
  
This story isn't a "Newsies story" in the conventional sense. It takes place on the set, and will involve most of the actors involved, centering around Ivan Dudynsky (Dutchy) and Mark David (Specs). This story is not Slash, but probably will get a bit Smarmy in parts (Smarm = Love between two STRAIGHT best friends, buddy buddy stuff).  
  
I don't own anybody, and I don't mean to offend the actors. It's just fiction. If you happen to *be* Ivan Dudynsky or Mark David, I would happily take down this story, but what's the chances of that happening? And the title isn't mine either. It's the name of a song Mark David sang on an episode of the show Roundhouse. Anyways… On with the story!!!  
  
  
  
Title: Let Me Be Your Friend  
  
Author: Neffie  
  
  
  
I suppose I should have noticed long before I really did. We had been best friends for two years, I should have seen that something was wrong right away. Maybe its because I just didn't want to see what was right before my eyes. Mark and I were best friends (still are), closer than brothers. It was my responsibility to help him, but by the time I took action, it was almost too late.  
  
David (Sidoni, not Moscow), Dominic, Mark and I had all gotten roped into this Disney movie called "Newsies". It seemed kinda childish at first, but hey, it pays the bills, right? All four of us were in our twenties, most of the rest of them were just kids, 14 to 19. Some of them weren't too bad. Max was older than most of them and was very mature about the whole situation. This blonde kid, Trey, well, he was just hysterical. Since the four of us were just getting a break from filming the first season of Roundhouse, we were ready for a change of scenery. Mark seemed so excited about the movie at first, but then he seemed to become more and more withdrawn. I didn't really worry too much about it, he had a tendency to be moody. If only I had payed more attention…  
  
The first incident happened the Monday of the third week…  
  
  
  
AN: Curious? Want more? For a review I might! 


	2. Take Five

The Super Long Author's Note: This story isn't a "Newsies story" in the conventional sense. It takes place on the set, and will involve most of the actors involved, centering around Ivan Dudynsky (Dutchy) and Mark David (Specs). 

I have given into The Great Mistresses of Newsies Slash and decided that this story will indeed turn out to be slash. I hope you all are happy now. And I am sorry if slash offends you.  
  
I don't own anybody, and I don't mean to offend the actors. It's just fiction. If you happen to *be* Ivan Dudynsky or Mark David, I would happily take down this story, but what's the chances of that happening? Also, I don't claim to know everything about Mark and Ivan's life. I'm sure there are a lot of things different in this fic that doesn't fit true to their life story. That is why it is Fiction. Say it with me everybody, F-I-C-T-I-O-N. So don't flame me telling me "That's wrong, and that's wrong." I'll just make fun of you to my friends. :oD

And the title isn't mine either. It's the name of a song Mark David sang on an episode of the show Roundhouse.

There is a bit of bad language in this chapter. I in no way approve of it, but it is necessary to get my point across. 

Okay, enough talk, on with the show!!

Title: Let Me Be Your Friend

Author: Neffie

Chapter 1: The Wrong Steps

"Stop, Stop, STOP!" Kenny's voice was deafening, echoing inside the sound stage that was serving as a dance studio for the cast of "Newsies." He pulled off his cap and brushed a few stray wisps of hair from his eyes. The summer heat was wearing down on everyone's nerves that afternoon. Tempers were short and more than one fuse had been lit already. "How many times do we have to do this? I don't mean to come down so hard on you guys, but this is ridiculous! It's jump, spin, step, turn, step, kick! Now let's try it again! Five, six, seven, eight!" The drum counted a steady tempo as the boys sweated through the routine once again. It went well for a total of 30 seconds, until one of the boys fell to the ground after the spin.

"You alright, buddy?" A young man with blond hair hanging into his eyes rushed over to his fallen friend. Ivan held out his hand to help the boy to his feet.

"I'm fine. Just tripped over my own feet," Mark David grumbled, ignoring the offered hand and pulling himself up from the ground awkwardly. Ivan looked at his best friend. He noticed that his chocolate brown eyes seemed a bit unfocused and he seemed to be shaking a bit. _He must be tired,_ Ivan told himself and looked up as Kenny came over.

"What's the problem Mark? You okay?" Despite the stress of the long day of filming, the director still put the well being of the boys above everything. The tall youth suddenly found the ground very interesting. "Yeah," Mark mumbled. "I'll do better next time." Kenny let out a long sigh. "Actually I think we all need to take a break. Everybody! Take five!" The sound stage erupted in the voices of young boys, grateful for a break. Laughter could be heard ringing throughout the entire room.

Ivan threw his arm around Mark's slender shoulders and started to steer him towards the snack table. "So," he started biting into a cookie "Youf wanna go fwor fom pizza an' pool wid ush affta?" his speech was almost unintelligible. He offered a cookie to Mark who wrinkled his nose and stepped away as if it were the most disgusting thing he had ever seen in his life.

"No. I think I'll just head back to the apartment. I'm… pretty tired." He squeezed his eyes shut against a wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Bright blue eyes peered curiously at Mark as his complexion went a shade paler. "Mark, are you sure you're alright?"

Just then someone with a bullhorn summoned them back to position. "Yeah," the tall brunette said, working hard to keep his voice steady. "I'm fine."

__

Whatever you say buddy, Ivan thought to himself skeptically as he hurried over to the rest of the group to continue working.

That night Mark David sat looking out his window at the city streets below, chewing slowly on a piece of ice.

He knew that he was dying inside, slower and slower day by day, but he just didn't have the strength to care anymore. The truth was that he hadn't cared in quite sometime.

He remembered feeling like this before, in high school. Even then he had been a loner. Before he met Ivan, he hadn't had a single friend in the world. That's not to say that he was unknown though. In fact he was payed a lot of attention. Like being slammed into the lockers between class changes. Words like "Faggot. Queer. Cocksucker," permantly burned into his soul like a brand.

He would have bruises that seemed to take weeks to fade. His parents never looked twice at them or asked where he got them. He always thought that his parents felt the same way, but just didn't care enough to do anything about it.

It might have been better if they had, because at least then he would have known that they knew he was alive.

His life had been out of control then, and it was quickly spiraling towards that again. But he knew that there was one thing he could keep control of.

Because he didn't have to eat or drink anything he didn't want to. And if he wanted to eat something so much that he thought about it all day long and maybe even dreamed about it at night, he didn't have to give in and eat it. Because he was in control and even though everything else in his life was chaos, this little piece of his life was completely his. 

A small and humorless smile spread across his face as he ran his hands across his ribcage, where he could feel each contour of the bones. He loved this, it brought a meaning to his life.

__

Then why does it make you feel so dead inside? Why does it make you feel like you are breaking in half everytime Ivan asks you if you are okay?

Mark shook away those thoughts and placed another piece of ice in his mouth, savoring it slowly in attempts to silence the growling of his stomach.


	3. Rice and Notebooks

Author's Note: You should have read it in the last chapter. If you didn't that's your problem not mine. :oP

More bad language in here, sorry. But I'm sure most of you have said worse! O:o)

The chapter's a bit longer than the others are but I think it has enough stuff to keep you interested.

This story is for Stage! The Queen of all things Mark/Specs and Ivan/Dutchy!

Title: Let Me Be Your Friend

Author: Neffie

Chapter 2

The early morning sun peaked through the blinds of the apartment that the two young men shared. Mark, grumbling incoherently, yanked the covers over his head in attempt to block out the offending light. He had almost succeeded in drifting back to sleep when an unidentified flying object bounced down hard onto his mattress and scrambled up on top of him.

"Ivan," the name was more like a groan. "If you want to live, I suggest you get off me. Now."

The threat did not faze the bouncing blonde in the slightest. "Rise and shine Sleeping Ugly! We do have a job to do, in case you have forgotten." Much to Mark's relief, Ivan rolled off the bed.

"I'd like to see you dance after I break your legs," the brunette mumbled into his pillow.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Mark said as he turned to face away from Ivan, in hopes to tune out his chipperness completely.

"Yeah, that's what I thought! Now come on if you want to have time to get breakfast," retorted his roommate as he savagely yanked the sheets off the bed, bringing Mark with them to crash onto the floor in a tangle of fabric and long limbs.

His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Whoops."

When Mark finally opened his brown eyes, they held a dangerous look. "I'm giving you a head start. Start. Running."

In a blur, the blonde boy was gone.

**********************************

A little over half an hour later, the two were heading down the road in Ivan's car. "So," Ivan beat his hands against the steering wheel in rhythm with the song playing on the stereo, "where do you want to stop to eat?"

"I'm not hungry," Mark said in a flat tone, his head resting against the passenger side window staring out at the road rushing beneath the tires.

"Come on, it's the most important meal the day," Ivan imitated a public service announcement and shot a grin at his best friend. Mark just continued staring out the window. The uneasy feeling started to grow inside Ivan again. _This isn't like him. This isn't like him at all._ He cleared his throat before continuing. "Now, there's McDonald's… Burger King… That new bagel place. How about a bagel?" He resisted the urge to look over at his passenger again.

"I said I wasn't hungry." Mark snapped as he reached over and flicked off the air conditioning.

Ivan reached over and turned it right back on again. "Dude, we're in California and it's SUMMER. Air-conditioning is like a necessary tool for survival."

"I'm freezing," the brunette stated simply.

"You can't be." Ivan risked another glance at his friend. Unbelievably, he was indeed shivering. Not able to suppress his frown, Ivan reached over to place his hand against Mark's forehead. "Are you feeling okay, buddy?"

Mark yanked away from his touch. "Who the fuck are you? My mother?"

Withdrawing his hand quickly, Ivan's eyes widened in shock at the words and tone of what his friend had just said. _Where did **that** come from? _Swallowing hard, he finally found his voice. "No, I'm your best friend. I'm just worried about you, that's all."

Shifting uncomfortably and wrapping his arms even tighter around himself Mark's voice went back to the flat tone he had used before. "There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

Concentrating on the road ahead of them, Ivan bit back the comments at the tip of his tongue. _Yeah, right. Do I like that stupid? I know you better than that. Something is very **very** wrong with you, buddy. And I'm gonna find out what it is, even if I have to drag it out of you._

*******************************

After coming home that evening, Ivan collapsed onto the couch with a loud groan. "Even my toenails hurt," he whined before finally stretching his arm out for the phone sitting beside the couch.

"Pizza or Chinese?" he yelled in the direction of Mark's bedroom where his roommate had gone to change out of his sweaty clothes.

Mark froze at those simple words. His insides clenched at the mere thought of the calories and fat. Yet, he couldn't skip another meal, Ivan had been watching him like a hawk ever since the ride to work this morning. He knew that he shouldn't have snapped at him like he did. It was just that no one in his life had ever given a damn about him before and he didn't know what to do now that someone did. 

Ivan had noticed that something was up, and that set off alarms in Mark's head. He couldn't draw anymore attention to himself by skipping dinner. But just the thought of all that greasy pizza made him feel nauseous. _I suppose Chinese would be okay though. I can probably just eat some rice, rice is okay. He won't notice if I pass on everything else._ He made his decision.

"Chinese sounds great!" he yelled back into the living room, pulling the black bandanna off his head. A moment late he could hear the soft tones of Ivan's voice on the phone with the restaurant. Satisfied that his roommate was occupied and wouldn't come into his room, he peeled off his T-shirt. It fell lifelessly from his fingers as he studied his reflection. 

Long, slender fingers traced along the contour of his ribcage, reveling in the texture of the skin clinging so tightly to the bone. Turning to the side he ran his hand over his stomach he smiled to himself at the way it dipped in. His pants hung loosely off his jutting hips. He would have to buy a smaller belt soon. The thought made his smile broaden across his gaunt face. Ignoring the protesting ache in his shoulders, he lifted his hand to touch his hollowed cheeks, letting his hands trail down to his collarbone, which stood out. He took a critical look at his upper arms; those were still a bit flabby. He would just have to work harder.

"Hope you're not doing what I think you're doing in there!" Ivan called in a singsong voice into the bedroom. "It'll make you go blind you know!" The remark was followed by the sound of Ivan laughing at his own joke.

Mark couldn't suppress his laugh or his retort; "Well you _are_ the expert on that sort of thing, aren't you?" With one last look to the mirror he pulled on his Chargers sweatshirt and placed his glasses back on his face.

He came into the living room to find his blonde friend sprawled across the couch. With a shove to move Ivan's feet off the couch, Mark sat down beside him. They soon became deeply involved in watching a soccer game on TV. When the knock on the door came there was a quick, disagreement as to who would go to answer it (_"Go get the door." "You go get it." "You're closer." "I always get it!" "You do not! I always get it!"_).

Finally, Ivan hauled himself off the cushions to go to the door. Despite his grumbling, he smiled. The return of their normal, friendly banter was a relief to him. Mark seemed like his old self again. _Maybe I was just being paranoid after all _he considered.

Mark was fishing some forks out of the kitchen drawers and bringing them back to the living room just as Ivan sat down the bags on the coffee table. "What? No Chopsticks?"

Mark smiled and shook his head. "I told you that you weren't allowed to have them anymore after you gave yourself all those splinters trying to start a fire with them!"

Ivan snickered at the memory. "Oh yeah. I had almost forgotten about that!" Mark rolled his eyes but joined his friend in his laughter. Their meal was eaten in companionable silence, except for the occasional outburst of cheering when their team scored, or the nasty swears when a ref made a bad call. 

Exhausted from the long day of filming, Ivan found himself dozing off. When Mark glanced over at him he was slumped to the side, a half-empty carton of noodles still cradled in his hand. His mouth hung open slightly in a light snore. Taking the carton from his friends slack grip, Mark cleaned up their mess and then, grabbing his keys, slipped out the door, careful not to wake Ivan.

***************************************

Waking with a snort, Ivan opened bleary eyes to find that the soccer game had ended, now replaced by an infomercial selling the infamous Hair-In-A-Can. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes he noticed that Mark was no longer in the living room with him. Still only half awake, he stumbled into the brunette's bedroom.

Finding the room empty, he turned to head towards his own bed that seemed to be calling, but his eyes caught the sight of something on the bed. It was a worn looking notebook. He knew immediately what it was. He had seen Mark carrying it around with him for the past few years. It was his journal. A feeling of guilt swept over him at even holding the cherished object. If he opened it, he would be invading his best friend's privacy. Normally the thought wouldn't cross his mind, but Mark's recent behavior was something that he just couldn't ignore. If something really was wrong, bad wrong, then he owed it to Mark to help him. Chewing his bottom lip nervously he contemplated the situation carefully. He had to know. He had to know if Mark was in trouble of some sort. Had to know if there was something that maybe, just maybe, he could help fix. He would expect Mark to do the same for him, wouldn't he? With shaking hands, he opened the notebook to a random page. After reading a few pages, he brought his hand up to cover his mouth. "Oh Mark," he whispered softly to the empty room. "Oh Mark. No."

*************************************************

AN: WOW! That was a long chapter! Sorry, but the guy's would just not let me go! Hope it was good! Review and let me know! Oh yeah! Before you all think I am just a moron, let me explain something. Notice that it says Chapter 2 at the top of this page. That's because the first posted part was a Prologue. This actually is the second chapter. Hope that clears some things up!


	4. Dance Away The Pain

AN: Go back to another chapter and read it. I'm too tired to type all that up again.

Title: Let Me Be Your Friend

Author: Neffie

Chapter 3

Ivan's fingers shook as he gingerly turned the pages of the worn notebook. His vision blurred as he tried to bite back his tears as he read the neat script that flowed across the page.

__

"May 26th

I weighed myself this again this morning. 138. I couldn't believe my eyes. I couldn't stand to look at myself in the mirror. I'm so pathetic.

Me and Ivan went out to eat today. I got a hamburger. I forgot how good they tasted. It was unbelievable. I guess after you go so long only eating the no-fat, low-cal, no taste stuff, you learn to appreciate things like ketchup and extra pickles.

Too bad I didn't keep it down. I went into the bathroom and stuck my finger down my throat. I kinda wish I could indulge like that more often. But I can't afford to. I'm a dancer. Dancers can't be fat. 

We're getting ready to start on a movie. This Disney musical. Newsboys or something like that. I don't really remember. It's getting harder to concentrate on things.

I blacked out this morning. One minute I was drinking some water in the kitchen, then BAM! I woke up on the floor. I've had a hell of a headache ever since. Now I've got a nice bruise on the side of my face. Ivan asked me what happened, I told him I walked into a door. I thought he was going to choke he laughed so hard. I laughed too. I have to keep smiling.

Tomorrow I will do better.

Tomorrow I will not eat.

I will drink 10 glasses of water and everything will be fine.

I control my eating. It does not control me."

Ivan clenched his eyes shut against the surge of emotion. He couldn't fall apart right now. He had to keep reading. He had to see what was going on in Mark's head recently. Had it gotten better or worse?

He flipped through another few pages until he reached the last entry. It was dated just three days ago. He took a deep breath and mentally steeled himself against what he would find. 

July 10th

__

"I hate this! Why do I have to be like this? Why was I born so different?

Why was I born at all?

I've come to the conclusion that I will always be alone. Who would want me? I'm just a clown. An only halfway decent dancer. And my body is so screwed up it's unbelievable.

The scale this morning said 118. I look in the mirror and all I can see is fat. But then someone tells me I am too scrawny and I think that maybe they're right. My mind goes in circles constantly, it's hard to think straight.

I'm different. All that abuse I got in high school… maybe I deserved it. I probably did. I'm an abomination. Isn't that what that crazy woman who my mom always invited over said? That people like me were living in sin and would burn in hell forever.

They weren't talking about me directly. Not that I've ever told anyone about it. I'd be crazy to tell anyone. Especially Ivan. You think he'd want to live with someone like that? Yeah right. I'd be out so fast it would make my head spin.

No one knows the real me. 

I'm alone. I always have been and I always will be. The End. Goodbye."

The writing on the page started as the normal, tidy script that was usual for Mark, but as one read down the page, it changed. It became messier, angrier, almost frantic, until the bottom two lines were barely a scrawl. Every couple of lines there was a smudge. The telltale water spots that mark where the writer had let his tears fall carelessly upon the page.

Those dried spots were joined by fresh drops as tears leaked out from underneath Ivan's eyelids to stream unheeded down his face, landing with a soft sound on the paper in his hands. The room was silent except for Ivan's sobs.

How could he have been so blind? How could he have stood by and done nothing while his best friend was destroying himself right before his very eyes? What kind of friend was he? The way Mark wrote, it was obvious that it had been going on for a very long time.

__

Where was I? Ivan asked himself. _Where was I when Mark was in so much pain? He was in the very next room. Why didn't I hear him crying? Why wouldn't he tell me?_

Gently he closed the notebook and placed it back on the bed where he had found it. His blue eyes were now red with tears. He wiped his face and made a resolution. _I may not have been there before, but I'm gonna make it up to you Mark. You are **not** alone._

***********************************************

Downstairs the small exercise room was almost empty. There were a few exercise bikes and weight lifting machines scattered through out, but they remained motionless and undisturbed. But at the back of the room there was a long stretch of mirrors covering the entire hind wall. There was a great, empty space in front of them to be used for aerobics, yoga, or anything of that sort.

It was near midnight and the room was completely abandoned save for one. Music blared through a set of speakers as the lonely figure proceeded to dance. Moving as if possessed, as if by dancing, he could somehow drive the demons out of his soul. 

__

Please die Ana  
For as long as you're here we're not  
You make the sound of laughter  
and sharpened nails seem softer  
And I need you now somehow  
And I need you now somehow

He had removed his heavy shirt a while ago. The sweat ran down his back in rivulets. Loose sweatpants were the only clothes covering his thin body. He enjoyed watching his bones and muscles moving under his thin skin. He liked to believe that he could actually see the fat and flab melting off him as he danced.

__

Open fire on the needs designed  
On my knees for you  
Open fire on my knees desires  
What I need from you.

The thoughts that usually smothered him had disappeared. The only thing that he could hear was the pounding music. The singer's rough yet soothing voice belting out the lyrics that felt like they had been yanked out of his very own soul. Words that he wished that he was able to say. The only thing he felt was the slapping of his bare feet against the floor and the aching of his muscles. He cherished the feeling. It reminded him that he was alive.

__

Imagine pageant  
In my head the flesh seems thicker  
Sandpaper tears corrode the film  
And I need you now somehow  
And I need you now somehow

His lithe body launched into the air in a series of spins and leaps that made him feel as if he were defying gravity. He wanted to be rid of the earth and all the sadness and trouble held within. He craved the weightlessness of space.

__

Open fire on the needs designed  
On my knees for you  
Open fire on my knees desires  
What I need from you

Brown eyes never wandered from the mirror. The dark thoughts started creeping back into his mind. He seemed nothing but a thin parody of himself. Looking exactly as he had in high school, those years he had tried so hard to forget. His face still looked so innocent, and maybe, in a way, he still was. He was completely vulnerable inside. With one word he could be shattered. Tears began to build up inside him, but he would not give into them. That would be giving into his weakness.

__

And you're my obsession  
I love you to the bones  
And Ana wrecks your life  
Like an Anorexia life

Suddenly the image in front of him began to blur. His head swam and he suddenly was having trouble staying on his feet. The "weakness" he was fighting against was closing in on him anyway. There was no fighting, and there was no escaping.

__

Open fire on the needs designed  
On my knees for you  
Open fire on my knees desires  
What I need from you  
Open fire on the needs designed  
Open fire on my knees desires  
On my knees for you

He fell to his knees in front of the mirror. Finally he could hold back his tears no longer and the sobs tore from his throat. He pressed his burning forehead against the cool glass and beat his palm against the wall.

"Why?" came his strangled voice echoing throughout the room. "What did I do that was so horrible? What did I do to piss You off, God?"

There was no answer, only silence as he continued to cry as hard as he could. The tears burned down in his face and he watched them fall in the mirror, his worst enemy.

*******************

Unnoticed and in the shadows, a blonde figured pressed his hands against his mouth to contain his own sobs.

AN: There will be slash in the next chapter! I promise!!!! The song used was "Ana's Song (Open Fire)" by Silverchair. It was written by Daniel Johns about his own anorexia.


	5. Falling

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AN: Go back to another chapter and read it. What kind of fool are you to be reading the chapters out of order? *smacks with rolled up pape*

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Shout Outs:

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Vinyl: *thwacks* You can have him when I'm done with him. 

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Web Writer Witch: *glomps* I miss yoooouuuu

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Ann: We all go a little MAD sometimes…. Hehehehehe.

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Stage: With all the hell we put them through, it's a surprise they still talk to us at all.

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Blinks-Tiger: ::Ducks::

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FictionHobbit: "For the Love of Mike" is why I do all things. XD

Sorry if I've forgotten anybody, but it is very late (or early) and I am tired. On with the show!!

Once again, this is for Stage for all her great help! The first sentence is hers.

Title: Let Me Be Your Friend

Author: Neffie

Chapter 3

The almost complete silence was broken in places by the continuing sobs from the hunched over brunette. It seemed to drag on for painful hours for the other hiding in the shadows...but in reality? Only a few minutes.

Ivan couldn't believe what he had just seen, what had been hidden underneath Mark's clothes all this time. It was like watching a ghost of someone you once knew and loved dearly. A ghost that was wandering, searching for some purpose for why it was there. But Mark was very much alive, at least for the time being. There was no telling what would happen if he didn't get help soon.

His stomach was sunken, his chest emaciated. His face was long and thin, with dark circles under his brown eyes. Eyes that once shown with laughter, now dull and empty. His hands trembled without stopping.

__

It's funny what you don't see when you're not looking, Ivan thought to himself bitterly.

Finally bringing his own tears under control, Ivan made his way across the room towards his fallen friend, whose sobs had now quieted down to just sniffles. He gingerly placed his hand on the bare shoulder.

Mark twitched away at the touch and spun around violently to see who the intruder was. He began to rub furiously at his eyes, to try and wipe away the tear tracks that were all too clear. "How long have you been standing there?" he said accusingly.

"Long enough." Ivan's words were soft and his own blue eyes were red. "Oh Mark, why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" his eyes widened in realization. "You son of a bitch! You read my journal, didn't you?"

Ivan flinched at the harsh words and the venom in his best friend's voice. "Mark, listen. I was worried…"

"You had NO RIGHT to do that!" Mark roared, as he tried to pull himself to his feet only to crash back down onto his knees painfully as another wave of dizziness sweeped over him. Sensing defeat, he sat with his back pressed to the mirror. Wrapping his arms tightly around his legs, pulling them close to his chest, he put his head down on them. "You had no right…" his voice cracked with anguish. "You had no right..." What little strength his body still had was quickly draining, his voice was barely a whisper.

Sitting down on the floor beside him, Ivan put his arm around the thin shaking shoulders. He tried to soothe his distraught friend with little success. "It's okay. Everything is going to be alright," he whispered softly into Mark's ear.

Lifting his head, the brunette pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. "No," he said in the weakest voice that Ivan had ever heard him use. "It's not okay. Everything is so messed up right now. It's never going to be okay." His hands fell limply at his sides and he let his head fall back against the mirror with a soft thump.

"Maybe not now, but things will be okay soon. You don't have to be alone anymore. I'm gonna help you get through this, you hear me?" Ivan put his hand on Mark's chin and turned his head to where he could look him straight in the face. Blue and Brown, both smudged with red. For a moment no words were spoken.

"What on earth could make you want to do something like this to yourself?" Ivan let his fingers run through Mark's brown hair. Mark flinched a little, surprised and unacustomed to such a caring gesture. Though he craved physical contact, he had so rarely received it that it felt almost alien to him. Part of him wanted to run away from the intimacy, while another part begged to indulge it further. He gave in to the latter impulse.

Closing his eyes with a heavy sigh, Mark leaned his head to rest on Ivan's shoulder. "Do you ever just feel nothing you do is ever good enough? Like you are completely worthless? That no matter how hard you try, you are still the most disgusting thing in the world?" Tears leaked out from under his tightly closed eyelids. He had to stop himself from pulling away when soft fingertips touched his face and wiped the moisture away. The touch lingered on his cheekbone.

"You listen to me, Mark Allen David. You are the most beautiful creature that I have ever seen." Brown eyes flew open at that remark, but before he could protest or question the words, Ivan's lips brushed gently against the corner of his mouth.

He froze. _This is not happening. Is it?_ His mind raced to find an explanation. Did Ivan Dudynsky just kiss him? _I must be losing it._

Receiving no form of protest from Mark, Ivan leaned forward once again. He pressed his mouth gently, yet strongly against Mark's. A small groan sounded deep inside the brunette's throat as he timidly returned the kiss. For a moment, nothing mattered

__

Faggot! Mark yanked away as the cruel voice invaded his mind. Memories of lonliness, fear, and pain erupted inside his head. He grabbed the sides of his head and clenched his jaw tightly while uttering a soft litany of "No, no no," under his breath.

Ivan had jerked away too at Mark's sudden movement. His eyes widened in confusion as he watched the change in his companion. "Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry if…" Realizing that Mark did not seem to hear his voice, he placed his hands firmly on his shoulders.

Instinctively, Mark's arms flew up in front of his face to protect himself against the blows that he was certain were coming. His slight shivering had turned into a violent shaking. "No! Please!" he shouted at his invisible assailants.

"Mark!" Ivan grabbed ahold of the frightened brunette's wrist and tried to pull them away from his face. "Mark, it's okay. No one is going to hurt you, do you hear me? Calm down and look at me, please. Come on Mark." Ivan continued the reassurances until finally he felt the muscles relax in his grip. He gently shifted his hands so that their fingers intertwined.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?" Ivan asked with a smile once Mark uncovered his face to look at him.

"I've always felt… different. In high school, there were these guys that would… shove me into lockers, and slap me around a bit, those kind of things. They called me names… Horrible names." Ivan listened patiently as he finally started to talk about the past that he had always kept quiet about. "I would come home, c-c-covered in bruises. My parents… they never said anything about them. They never wanted anything to do with me. I kept myself locked in my room most of the time." Mark leaned his forehead against their joined hands. "I guess, deep down, I always thought I deserved it. There was this friend that my mother had. The religious type. She talked about how gays were all going to burn in hell. That God had sent diseases to earth to punish them. That's when I started starving myself.

"At first, I just avoided meals because I didn't want to interact with anyone. I would hide in the school library during lunch, and I went straight to my room when I went home. Sometimes I wouldn't go home at all. I would just wander around for awhile. That's what I was doing the night _they_ found me." His muscles tensed once again. Ivan kissed his knuckles, and then his forehead, softly offering the encouragement to continue.

"It was the same guys from school," Mark had to concentrate hard on keeping his voice from breaking. The images from that night were still as fresh in his mind as they ever were. He squeezed Ivan's hands tighter in attempt to keep himself grounded in the here and now, instead of slipping back into the nightmarish visions replaying themselves in his head.

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AN: HA HA! I am an evil spite, aren't I? Mwahahahaha. Guess you'll just have to wait won't you? Hehehehehehehe.


	6. Cold

**Author's Note: **Le Gasp! I have at last returned to the world of after faaar too long. It seems a lot of people wanted more of this story. So I decided I would try my best. I know I've kinda wussed out at the beginning of this chapter, but Mark!muse just wouldn't tell me about it! So here we go. Hope this satisfies you all for now.

**Title:** Let Me Be Your Friend

**Author: **Neffie

Chapter 6

They both sat in silence, Ivan waiting patiently for Mark to tell him what had caused him to react so violently. But nothing else came. Mark shook his head sadly. 'I... I can't. I can't even say..." he made an odd sound, like he was choking on the words. Ivan simply nodded, he was frustrated, but he understood. There were some things in a persons life that were just impossible to speak about. Things that were so hard to pull out of you mind that they literally felt as if they were ripping you apart if you tried. Instead, he hooked his arm under Mark's shoulders and helped him to his feet.

Mark was too tired to struggle. He didn't speak as they rode upstairs in the elevator, or when Ivan unlocked the apartment door, and led Mark to his bedroom, pulling down the sheets and blankets for him.

Wincing inwardly at the stiff way in which Mark moved, how every motion seemed to hurt his body, the body that had been overworked and underfed for so long. Quietly, he pulled the blankets up to his chin. Letting his fingers once more brush through the brown hair. He turned to leave.

He stood in the doorway, waiting for something. He didn't know what that something was, but there had to have been a reason why his feet didn't want to move. His eyes roamed out the window at the end of the short hallway, his mind trying to come up with some explanation to give when Mark asked him what he was doing.

Then, it came.

"Ivan?"

He cleared his throat, praying silently that his voice would not crack when he opened his mouth. He turned around, with every ounce of will being used not to start crying again. The boy he found himself looking at was suddenly far too young, and far too broken to be the person he used to know. Something was waiting to be asked just behind those lips, those lips that were trembling. Just when Ivan knew his chest was gong to explode from anticipation, Mark spoke.

"I'm cold."

And that was all that it took.

Ivan nodded, tears starting to run down his cheeks. He sat down on the other side of the bed, his back to Mark, taking his shoes off. He knew that if he spent too long looking at him, that he would break in two. That he would confess to things that should stay silent, at least for tonight. He knew that he couldn't bear looking at Mark, huddled in his blanket, skin pale and blue in the light from the window, huddled in his blanket, on a summer night in L.A. Ivan had never seen him like this. Stripped bare, emotions raw, vulnerable to the slightest hint of rejection.

Yes, everything about this night was so incredibly wrong. Ivan found his fingers were pinching the skin on his ankle, to see if maybe he had dreamt it all. That he would wake up and find that everything was okay again.

Instead, he was left with nothing but a red blotch that was already fading.

So, he found himself climbing under the covers, spooning up against Mark's back, trying not to notice the way his spine jutted out in places. His arm reached out and wrapped itself around the thin waist, pulling them closer, stilling Mark's shivering. The chill creeping through his bones.

Because that was all there was left of him. Or at least thats the way it felt.

"I'm sorry." Mark's voice was thick and muffled with a sadness and shame that he was trying to hide in his pillow.

"So am I." was all Ivan could think to say.

**Author's note: **To be continued? If you guys want more. And if you want more, tell me what you want.


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